The Final Question

by Saratchandra Chattopadhyay

  She entered and sat down. It was nothing to speak of—yet she appeared to spread a glow of distinction with her beauty, presence and natural dignity.

  Harendra’s words echoed this very feeling. It might have been a lapse of courtesy in front of two other women, but he said with great emotion, ‘At last our meeting is complete.’

  Akshay said, ‘Why? Which subtle doctrine of philosophy did her arrival bear out?’

  ‘There!’ said Kamal, laughing. ‘Now answer his question.’

  Quite a few people, including Harendra, looked the other way, perhaps to hide their laughter.

  Subdued, Akshay said, ‘Do you remember me, Kamal?’

  Ashu Babu was vexed. He said, ‘It’s enough if you recognize her. Can you, Akshay?’

  ‘Now, that’s an unfair question to ask, Ashu Babu,’ complained Kamal. ‘It’s his business to know people. If you doubt that, you strike at the root of his profession.’

  She said this in such a way that no one could help laughing; but they were afraid that this irrepressible man might say something unpleasant in reply. In fact Harendra had not wanted to invite Akshay; but as he had recently returned to Agra, it would have been awkward not to ask him.

  Humbly and nervously, Harendra said, ‘Ashu Babu is leaving the town and perhaps this country. It’s a matter of good fortune for anyone to have known a man like him. We are lucky to have done so. Today, when his body is sick and his mind weary, let us say goodbye to him as pleasantly as we can.’

  His words were few and simple, but everybody was touched as they looked at the serene, honest face of this elderly man. Ashu Babu was ill at ease. To avoid becoming the focus of conversation, he broached another subject. He said, ‘Akshay, I believe you’ve heard that Harendra’s ashram has closed down. Rajen had left earlier and Satish also went the other day. Harendra wishes to bring up the few remaining boys in a straightforward, practical way. All of you have been telling him many things for a long time, but to no effect. It’s your duty to thank Kamal.’

  Akshay smarted inwardly, but he replied with a dry laugh: ‘Was it her words that bore fruit? Well, whatever you may say, I’m not surprised, Ashu Babu. I’d guessed so long ago.’

  Harendra remarked, ‘That’s only natural. It’s your business to know people for what they are.’

  Ashu Babu said, ‘I still think there was no need to wind the place up. All religions are fundamentally the same, a matter of following some ancient rituals to attain salvation. Those who don’t believe in rituals or can’t observe them shouldn’t be forced to do so, but why discourage those who have the perseverance? What do you say, Akshay?’

  Akshay said, ‘Of course.’

  But as soon as Ashu Babu looked at Kamal, she shook her head and said, ‘You’re not saying this from firm conviction, Ashu Babu; rather out of dismissiveness and disbelief. If I thought as you did, I’d never have spoken a word against the ashram. But it’s not so: rituals and observances come to outgrow men’s faith, just as the king’s men become more important than the king.’

  Ashu Babu laughed and said, ‘It may be so, but does that mean that we must accept your simile as logic?’

  Kamal’s face showed that she was not joking. She said, ‘Is it only a simile, Ashu Babu? I admit that all religions are really one. In all countries in all ages, it has meant the unattainable pursuit of an unknowable object: you can’t bring it within your grasp. Men don’t quarrel over sunshine or air; they fight over their share of food—what one can possess as one’s own and leave to one’s progeny. That’s what counts as real in the business of life. Everyone knows that the fundamental aim of all marriages is the same; but how many of us truly accept it? What do you say, Akshay Babu, isn’t that so?’ She laughed and turned away.

  Everybody understood the allusion. The angry Akshay wanted to say something harsh but could not find the words.

  ‘Yet you yourself have such disdain for rituals, Kamal,’ said Ashu Babu. ‘That’s why it’s so difficult to understand you.’

  ‘It isn’t difficult,’ said Kamal. ‘Just draw away the curtain before your eyes. Others might not, but you’ll understand it at once: otherwise how could I have won your affection? There’s a bank of mist between us, yet I have won it. I know I hurt you by what I say, but I really don’t want to dismiss rituals as false; all I want is to reform them. I want to strike life into what has become dead with time. I disdain them as they are because I know their true worth. If I knew them to be false, I’d have gone along with everybody else in false devotion, attuning myself to the lie. I wouldn’t have revolted at all.’

  She paused before continuing: ‘Think of the days of the European Renaissance. They wanted to create something new, but didn’t touch their rituals and ceremonies. They daubed some fresh paint on the old forms and secretly worshipped them. They didn’t go to the root of the matter, and the fashion disappeared in a short while. I was afraid that Haren Babu’s high ambition would vanish in the same way. But there’s nothing to fear, he’s managed all right.’ She laughed.

  Harendra could not join in the laughter; he remained grave. He had indeed done as she said, but his heart had not yet really consented to his action: it grew heavy from time to time. He said, ‘The problem is that you believe neither in God nor in salvation, Kamal. But those who are intent upon knowing those unknown objects, who are eager to determine their essence, must proceed through stern discipline and strict adherence to ritual. I don’t feel proud about winding up the ashram. The day Satish left with the boys, I felt how weak I was.’

  ‘Then you didn’t feel rightly, Haren Babu. My father used to say that the more subtle and complex one’s God is, the more one ties oneself in knots. The grosser you make Him, the simpler he will become for you. It’s like business: the higher your turnover, the greater your losses. If you scale it down, you might not make a profit, but you’ll reduce your losses. I’ve talked to Satish, Haren Babu. He’d introduced many traditional rules in the ashram, with the intention of returning to the ancient days. He used to think that if you could wipe out two thousand years from the world’s age, that would make for the highest profit. The Puritans of England had looked for such profit too. They thought that by fleeing to America and eliminating seventeen centuries, they’d recreate the pristine Biblical age. Today many people know the outcome of their calculations; only the monastics don’t know that the real moment of ruin comes when you try to uphold modern practices by the philosophy of a bygone age. I might have harmed your ashram, Haren Babu, but I know I haven’t harmed its surviving inmates.’

  Akshay, a professor of history, knew about the Puritans. Everyone remained silent; but he nodded slowly in agreement.

  Ashu Babu started saying, ‘But the bright image of the history of that age …’

  Kamal interrupted him. ‘No matter how bright it might be, Ashu Babu, it’s only a picture. That book is yet to be written through which one can imbibe the true life of society. However proudly you may talk, you can’t build a society by the book. You can’t bring back either the age of Rama or the age of Yudhisthira. Whatever might be written in either the Ramayana or the Mahabharata, you can’t reach the common man by riffling through their verses, just as you can’t get back to your mother’s womb, however safe it may be. Humanity is an ensemble of all the human races. They are all around you. Is it possible to escape the pressure of the atmosphere by tucking yourself into a blanket?’

  Bela and Malini had been listening quietly. They had heard much about this young woman; but today, encountering her like this, they were amazed by the confident speech of this deserted, resourceless girl.

  Ashu Babu immediately expressed just this reaction. He said, ‘Whatever I might say by way of argument, Kamal, I accept many of your premises, and I don’t despise even what I can’t accept. This very house had its door closed to women only a few days ago. I’m told Satish had even felt that the place had been defiled by inviting you here. But today we’ve all been invited. Anyone can come in.’
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  A young boy came and stood at the door. He was wearing clean, decent clothes, and there was joy and satisfaction on his face. He said, ‘Didi asked me to tell you that dinner’s ready: shall we serve it?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Akshay. ‘It’s getting late.’

  As the boy left the room, Harendra said, ‘Boudi’s entry into this house has freed us from having to bother about meals. She didn’t have any place to stay—yet Satish left in a huff.’

  Ashu Babu’s face flushed for a moment. ‘I suppose Satish had no alternative,’ continued Harendra. ‘He’s an ascetic and a brahmachari. This might have disturbed his concentration. But I’m not always sure which of my actions was for the best.’

  Kamal said unhesitatingly: ‘This one, Haren Babu, this one. When self-control doesn’t come spontaneously, it hurts others and becomes unbearable.’ Having said this, she looked for an instant at Ashu Babu. Perhaps there was some hidden suggestion in her glance. But it was Harendra that she addressed again: ‘Such people extend themselves in the image of their God. That’s why the worship of their God descends to the worship of their own self: there’s nothing else they can do. Humankind is not simply male or female, it’s a union of the two. If you ignore one half and seek to aggrandize yourself with the other, you lose your God without gaining your own self. Don’t worry about people like Satish, Haren Babu. Their salvation lies in God’s own hands.’

  Almost everyone disliked Satish, so everyone laughed at the last remark. Ashu Babu laughed too, but added: ‘There’s a lofty concept in our Hindu Shastras, Kamal: self-knowledge, that is, to know one’s own self deeply. The sages say that here lies all the knowledge of the world and all wisdom. This is also the way to attain God. It needs meditation. You’re not a believer; but those who are, those who want to attain Him, can’t succeed in their meditative concentration if they don’t deprive themselves of many worldly things. I don’t take Satish into account, but this is the heritage we have derived from an unbroken tradition, Kamal. This is yoga.1 The whole of India, from the ocean to the Himalayas, believes in this idea with unswerving reverence.’

  His eyes grew moist with piety, faith and emotion. In a flash, Kamal saw a pious, resolute Hindu heart burning like an unquenchable lamp in some secluded depth beneath the veneer of Western habits and manners. She wanted to say something but felt inhibited. The inhibition was only for fear of hurting this old man, worshipper of truth and sensual discipline. But on getting no reply from her, Ashu Babu himself asked, ‘Isn’t this the truth?’

  She shook her head and said, ‘No, Ashu Babu, it’s not. This belief exists in all religions, not only Hinduism. However, nothing becomes true simply by strength of faith—not even by strength of renunciation or self-sacrifice. Many lives have been bartered for trivial differences of opinion. It has demonstrated the power of human obstinacy but not the truth of the idea. I don’t know what you call yoga, but if it means self-analysis and self-contemplation in a secluded place, I would insist that all errors and illusions enter our life through those two gateways and no other: they are the companions of ignorance.’

  Not only Ashu Babu but Harendra too kept silent at this, in wonder and pain.

  The boy came again and announced that dinner had been served. Everyone went downstairs.

  28

  WHEN DINNER WAS OVER, AKSHAY FOUND KAMAL ALONE FOR A moment and said to her confidingly, ‘I heard you’re going away. You’ve visited almost everybody you know sometime or other, except for my place …’

  Kamal was utterly astonished: not only by the change in his tone, but by his addressing her as apni. Everyone addressed her informally as tumi: she never complained nor took offence. But in Akshay’s case there was another factor. He used to think that affording this woman the courtesy of apni was excessive, even an abuse of respectable norms. Kamal knew it, but she had felt it beneath herself to take note of this pettiness: she was afraid of provoking an altercation. She smiled and said, ‘You’ve never asked me over to your house.’

  ‘No. It was wrong of me. Won’t you find time to come once, before you leave?’

  ‘How can we, Akshay Babu? We’re starting early tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Early in the morning?’ He paused and said, ‘If ever you return to this place, I invite you to visit my house.’

  Kamal smiled and said, ‘Can I ask you something, Akshay Babu? How did your views about me change so suddenly? They should have grown more rigid instead.’

  Akshay said, ‘In the ordinary way they would have done. But I returned from my village with some new experiences. Your example of the Puritans has stirred me deeply. I don’t know whether the others understood it or not—it wouldn’t be surprising if they didn’t—but I know a lot about them. There’s something else too. Most of the people in our village are Muslims. They still hold firmly to their fifteen hundred-year-old truths. The same dispensations and prohibitions, rules and laws, rites and customs—nothing has changed.’

  Kamal said, ‘I know almost nothing about them; I’ve never had the opportunity. If what you’re saying is true, I can only say that it’s time for them as well to think afresh. They’ll have to admit one day that the bounds of truth were not fixed in some ancient past. But come upstairs.’

  ‘No, I’ll take your leave from here. My wife’s ill. You’ve met so many people; won’t you see her once?’

  ‘What does she look like?’ asked Kamal curiously.

  ‘I don’t really know,’ replied Akshay. ‘No one in our family has ever asked such a question. My father brought home a nine-year-old girl as his son’s bride. She had neither the time nor the need for education. She cooks and serves meals, she keeps her rites and makes her vows, offers puja and says her prayers. She regards me as the lord of this world and the next. When she’s ill she doesn’t want to take medicines. She says that the water touched by her husband’s feet will cure all diseases. If it doesn’t, it means the wife’s reached the end of her span.’

  Kamal had got some hint of all this from Harendra. She said, ‘You’re a lucky man—at least in respect of your wife. Such implicit faith is rare these days.’

  ‘Perhaps so,’ answered Akshay. ‘I don’t know exactly. Perhaps this is what’s called one’s luck in wiving. But sometimes I feel there’s no one I can call my own, that I’m totally alone in this world. Well, goodbye.’

  Kamal raised her hands in a namaskar.

  Akshay started walking away, then turned back. He said, ‘May I make a request?’

  ‘Please do.’

  ‘If ever you find time and happen to remember me, please write and let me know how you are, how Ajit Babu is, all that sort of thing. I’ll think of you often. Well, goodbye!’

  Akshay walked away hurriedly, while Kamal stood in silence. She was not judging right or wrong; she only wondered if this could be the same Akshay. And this was how, beyond all human knowledge, the conjugal life of this fortunate man had flown in untroubled peace! How eager he was for a letter, how piteously and sincerely he prayed for it!

  Returning upstairs, she found everyone seated except Nilima. That was true to Nilima’s nature—no one took notice of it. Ashu Babu said, ‘Harendra has said something wonderful. At first it sounds like a riddle, but it’s absolutely true. He says people don’t understand that the pain of transgressing social norms can be borne only by strength of character, conscience and wisdom. People only look at the external offence, they don’t know about the inward inspiration. That’s what leads to all conflict, all hostilities.’

  Kamal understood that this was aimed at Ajit and herself; hence she kept quiet. She did not say that social norms can be violated through sheer indiscipline. Perversion of the will and the promptings of conscience were not the same thing.

  Bela and Malini rose. It was time for them to leave. Totally ignoring Kamal, they said goodbye to Harendra and Ashu Babu with namaskars. They had always felt themselves to be insignificant before this girl; now they finally had their revenge by ignoring her. After they h
ad left, Ashu Babu affectionately said, ‘Don’t mind them, my dear. That was the only thing they could do. I too belong with them. I understand everything.’

  This was the first time that Ashu Babu had addressed her so affectionately before Harendra. He said, ‘They happen to be the wives of well-placed men. They belong to high society. They are up to date in their English, their ways and gestures, their dress and grooming. If you ignore that, you touch upon their capital, Kamal. It would be taking them too seriously even to lose your temper with them.’

  ‘I’m not offended,’ said Kamal with a smile.

  ‘I knew you wouldn’t be,’ said Ashu Babu. ‘Even we didn’t feel offended: instead we felt like laughing. But how will you go home, my dear? Should I drop you there on my way?’

  ‘By all means—how would I go otherwise?’ She had sent back their own car in case it attracted people’s attention.

  ‘All right. But we shouldn’t delay any more. What do you say?’

  Everyone remembered that he had not recovered fully from his illness.

  The tread of shoes could be heard on the stairs, and the next moment everyone, to their great surprise, saw Ajit standing outside the door.

  Harendra gave him a resounding welcome: ‘Hello! Better late than never! What an honour for the brahmacharya ashram!’

  Ajit said in embarrassment, ‘I’ve come to fetch her.’ An unexpected bravado forced the words out of him on an impulse. He went on, ‘Otherwise I wouldn’t have met you any more. We’re leaving tomorrow morning, even before sunrise.’

  ‘Tomorrow morning? Before sunrise?’

  ‘Yes. Everything’s ready. That’s how our journey will begin.’

  The affair was not unknown, but everyone seemed to turn dull with embarrassment. Nilima entered silently and stood to one side of the room. Ashu Babu overcame his diffidence and looked up. His words seemed to stick in his throat; then he slowly said, ‘Perhaps we won’t ever meet again. I love both of you. If you were to marry, I would have liked to see it happen before I left.’